Stockholm Syndome
by ALiteraryPrincess
Summary: Follow a certain fourteen-year-old Harley Quinn through her beginning as the Clown Princess of Crime...PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter One

**Stockholm Syndrome**

After hearing about and grieving over Heath Ledger's sudden and undeserved death, I decided to abandon "Fee, Fi, Fo" and work on this story as a kind of therapeutic process of dealing with what happened. I also abandoned my previous Batman Begins fic because of a little unpleasant flame I got. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the overly-sensitive type when it comes to flames, but that one just seemed pretty harsh for me to process, since I read it the same day Heath died, right after finding that out. Well, anywhoo, this is my interpretation of how Harley Quinn could've played into the upcoming Dark Knight movie. She is drastically younger in this fic, roughly 14, and this is solely because everybody's drastically younger in Christopher Nolan's Batman movies. So, if you don't like it, don't read it, and don't bitch at be about it! And, most importantly, R.I.P. Heath!! WARNING: This story will contain, like Fee, Fi, Fo, physical, psychological, and sexual abuse upon a minor. DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU!! DISCLAIMER: All obvious Batman characters  Bob Kane. Even though I'm sort of reinterpreting Harley in this, she is NOT and WILL NEVER BE mine!

**Chapter One: Of Trauma, Solace, and Trust (Part One).**

14-year-old Harleen Quinzel sat in the corner of the window-less, cold room she was kept in, tucking her severely scraped knees up to her chin, into the classic fetal position, like a terrified animal. Hell, she would look like a terrified animal to anyone who would come across her right now. Her slender, athletic gymnast's body was naked and bruised in several shades of blues, greens, and blacks, contrasting heavily with the lucid paleness of her once beige skin. Her naturally platinum blonde, shoulder-length hair was now three times darker than it used to be, due to all the grime and dried blood that had built up over the time of her captivity. The notorious luster Harleen's hair was blessed with was also gone. Now it hung dull and lifeless from her face, as if it were straw. A black leather collar, which was tethered to the wall she was leaning against by the means of a thick, heavy chain held her prisoner by the neck as well, crushing any hopes she may have had of escaping.

Harleen had been here for 2 weeks now, and she'd already experienced more than anybody should of pain and hell in a lifetime. Over these two weeks, she had been beaten, tortured, raped, and humiliated by a man who called himself the Joker, who claimed that she was his, and nobody else's. After going through all of these nightmarish scenarios, the young girl couldn't even remember clearly how she even got to be here, nor did she have any clue that she had been in this room for two weeks. But she constantly tried to remember how she wound up where she currently was, and could only muster up the vague memory of being on a class fieldtrip, to, possibly the Gotham City Art Center…it was all so blurry, Harleen couldn't be certain though. At least she remembered something! In fact, she couldn't even remember what her parents looked like anymore, or what their names were! Were her parents even looking for her now? Did they remember their own baby girl? It seemed as though Harleen had been in this dark, damp cell-like room for years. She had completely lost sense of time, and even reality.

"Oh, sweetheart! Daddy's home!" Oh no! It was him!!

The Joker had to be on the other side of that door across from her, Harleen knew it! She had grown accustomed to his maniacal voice, and knew the sadistic sing-song tone it had now all too well. It was the tone of voice he used when he wanted to…"play with her". He called it "playing" but Harleen knew that "playing" was really a session of being tortured and psychologically abused. She absolutely hated the very thought of "playing" with the creepy, freakish bastard! Instinctively at hearing-and seeing-the door open and his silhouette in its wake, Harleen's gray-blue eyes, which were already large, got wider still, and she tightened her fetal position, backing into the dark left-hand corner of the room frantically. She didn't even care at this point that the collar around her neck was being pulled taut by the tethered chain; she'd rather choke to death right now than spend a moment with him!


	2. Chapter One: Part Two

Oook, so I must apologize for breaking up the first chapter into two parts, it's just that I'm lazy in nature, and even though I love to write, it sadly takes a lot out of me. Here's part two! I hope you all are not TOO pissed off with my rendition of Harley! WARNING: This story will contain, like Fee, Fi, Fo, physical, psychological, and sexual abuse upon a minor. DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU!! DISCLAIMER: All obvious Batman characters © Bob Kane. I do NOT own Harley Quinn! (A/N: The second part switches back and forth from Harley to the Joker's point of view, but I will not put the P.O.V. notes within the fic, sense it will be pretty obvious who's points of views the story's being told from. Flashbacks may also occur.)

**Chapter One: Of Trauma, Solace, and Trust (Part Two)**

"Oh, sweetheart! Daddy's home!" I decide to make my presence known to her with a singsong voice, to satisfy my constant craving for dark humor.

_ Why does she still look so fucking pretty, even under these conditions?!_This thought enters my mind as I open the door of my new pet's confinements, gazing upon her naked, beaten form. No matter how much I ruin her, she remains beautiful, and it's pissing me off! I guess it's been about two weeks exactly since I've abducted her, and the process of breaking her mind has made itself very easy for me, even though she was damn stubborn and determined to be as defiant and rude as she could be the first few days. But all it took was a little intense torture and humiliation to have her at the point she is currently. The girl is young as well, so her mind obviously couldn't keep on going through the psychological abuse I was constantly giving it. It's like her ordeal made her regress to an infant-like stage, and tonight I was going to rebuild her into a sadistic, maniacal bitch, who would do absolutely anything for me. That's the whole beauty of Stockholm syndrome; a captor's mind can be completely warped by it, yet they would remain oblivious to this fact. Fuck, I can even guarantee that she'll be madly in love with me by tomorrow! It all depended on me playing my cards right, so to speak, right now.

I almost burst out laughing when the stupid little slut lurched back into the dark corner nearest to her, choking herself during the attempt of trying to hide from me, making an almost comedic sounding gagging noise. Rethinking what I desperately wanted to do, I bit my teeth down on onto my tongue firmly, keeping the sadistic giggles that begged to escape inside. I was here to fool her into thinking that I cared for her-laughing at her expenses wouldn't help me at achieving my goal at all! Instead of laughing at her, which I usually did and was going to do, I decided to fake pity, walking over to her, and taking her slim, currently weak form gently into my arms. "Shhh, honey. Shhh! It's okay. Calm down, baby. Calm down! Shhh!" My feigned, soothing words surprisingly calmed the girl from her hysterics, reducing her to doing nothing but trembling and sobbing as I held her to my chest. Her head was now resting itself on my left shoulder, easily letting me fish the key to her collar from my jacket, unlocking it and gently removing it from her slender, willowy neck. I locked my gaze onto the ugly, angry red and bloodied marks the metal collar had left on her skin, admiring them as I let the hopelessly confused and traumatized teenager wail and sob while she found solace in my fake embrace.

_The Joker cackled as his 14-year-old captive shrieked in pure agony and horror underneath him, as he began the act of viciously raping her fragile body. Harleen feebly struggled and screamed as the unbelievable, and unspeakable pain invaded her. She'd never felt anything as terrible as this before; how could pain on this level even exist?! It wasn't fair! This shouldn't be happening to her, she was too young! Harleen felt incredibly cheated out; her first time with a man wasn't supposed to be at all like this! It was supposed to be romantic, and gentle, and when she was an adult…she was just a teenager, she was just a sophomore in high school…she wanted to do so many more things in life than get raped. Harleen should have been angry right now, she should have been furious even, but she wasn't. She was in shock and pure agony; she was also scared beyond belief. _

"_IT HUURTS!! IT HURTS!!" Harleen wailed as tears flowed down her cheeks in thin streams. _

"_Push __**it **__out then, little girl!" The Joker's reply was teasing and cruel, making her ordeal more enjoyable to cause. _

_Without even thinking, Harleen tried desperately to do what her rapist suggested, not knowing that her tormentor was allowing her to succeed slightly in doing this before he thrust harshly back into her, taking away the final ounce of the hope she had left.  
_

"_Whoops! Didn't quite work, did it?!" The Chelsea-grinned man allowed himself a few bouts of laughter, which he knew would demean the young girl to no ends. He also couldn't resist giggling as Harleen shrieked with pain and sorrow, he knew just then that he stole her sanity.  
_

Terrible, awful memories came in flashes through my mind as I felt arms embrace me gently. At this, I broke down, crying harder than I'd ever cried before in my life. For the first time since what felt like forever, I felt safe! Had I just been saved? Is the bad man gonna hurt me anymore? No, he couldn't-I'd been saved! Whoever was holding me right now rescued me; they wouldn't let me hurt anymore! Never! At first confusion flooded through my mind, followed by sadness and relief. I owed this person everything now, I had to-they saved me! My body wracked itself with nearly painful sobs and wails but I didn't care. I buried my face into the shoulder of my savior as they removed the collar that had been placed painfully around my neck, which burned so badly now. "Keep me safe! Keep me safe! Please, please please don't let him hurt me anymore! Keep me safe!" My voice squeaked as it forced its way out of my lungs, and I didn't even notice the fact that I was babbling insanely. I sounded completely understandable, to myself, that is. All that mattered now though was that somebody was holding me gently now, protectively, and that I could cling back onto them. Yes, that's all that was important. I was now safe. I was saved.


	3. Chapter Three

Oookay, so here it is! The third chapter! I've only gotten three reviews so far, but hey, something is better than nothing, right? Back to the point, this chapter is going to be about Commissioner Gordon and the guilt he feels for not being able to save Harleen, and the comfort that is brought to him when he returns home from work, finding his daughter Barbara safe asleep, and out of harms way on the den couch. I don't know how much of them I want in Stockholm Syndrome, though, but if you like the idea than please let me know! DISCLAIMER: All obvious Batman characters © Bob Kane. Even though I'm jazzing Harley Quinn up a-la Christopher Nolan style, along with Barbara Gordon, they DO NOT and WILL NEVER belong to me.

**Chapter Three: Resilience **

Commissioner Jim Gordon shook his head and furrowed his brow wearily as he fished out his keys from one of his jacket pockets. What a goddam day today had been! It was just like every other day since fourteen-year-old Harleen Quinzel was kidnapped by Gotham's latest threat, a maniac who called himself the Joker. In Jim's opinion, this whole case wasn't that far off from being some kind of psychological horror movie. Everything about it didn't make any sense what-so-ever, and it felt like he was a blind man, reaching out desperately for something that was right in front of him, but his grasp kept on missing it. Now it had been officially three weeks, and there wasn't even _one _fucking clue given to the police department of where the Joker could possibly be. It was like the bastard didn't even exist! Jim just couldn't understand it; twice the department had received an envelope of pictures, which all showed the very hell Harleen was in from the Joker in the mail, but they couldn't even find the location source. The bastard had obviously taken his time in making sure that his trace was as clean as a damn whistle, and even hours of painstaking and frustrating searching at the Gotham Police Department didn't seem to be helping at all. Never before in his life had Jim felt this bad! Never before in his life had he ever let someone who needed his help down…well, he had now.

Breaking himself from his reverie, Jim unlocked his apartment door, only to find his daughter fast asleep on the living room couch, with the TV remote tucked adorably in her hands, as if it were a teddy bear. Despite the fact that the course of the day had badly affected Jim's emotions, he couldn't help but let them all go, at least until tomorrow morning. A content, albeit weary smile came across his lips as he watched his baby girl sleep. Well, she wasn't really a baby anymore; she had just turned fourteen two days ago. But a child is always a baby to their parent, even when they're sixty-something. He stepped into his apartment's small living room after locking the front door, continuing to smile when he approached the couch Barbara was sleeping on. Glancing at what was on the television, Jim chuckled when he noticed it was one of those late-night cartoons that were meant for "mature" viewers. Jim had watched this very show many times with Barbara, finding its edgy content just as funny as she did. God, how he loved those moments. He hardly got to spend any time with Barbara and her new baby brother, but when he did he made sure every second of that moment counted, even if it was just watching TV with them. Jim also randomly took note of the way Barbara's long, nearly-waist-length hair was splayed across the couch pillow, feeling light-heartedly jealous of her. She probably didn't even realize how amazing her vibrant cherry-red hair really was. His hair used to have the exact same shade in his more youthful years, but now it was barely what he'd call "Salt and Pepper". The red of his hair in fact got lighter as he began to push forty, and then darkened somewhere in his mid forties to the shade of silvery brown it was now. But, he was also cursed with perpetual freckles when he was younger as well, unlike Barbara who didn't have a single blemish on her porcelain skin.

Jim went over to the TV, turning it off before turning around to pick his sleeping daughter up gently from the couch as well as placing the remote down. He suddenly felt like she was four years old again carrying her to her bedroom like this, but for some reason he didn't feel like Barbara would be embarrassed as hell if she woke up right now. The commissioner had to suppress a chuckle as he saw the hectic state his daughter's room was in, thinking that it looked like a natural disaster had struck it as he placed Barbara onto her bed, pulling the covers over her like he used to when she was younger. He gazed fondly down at her for a minute longer before kissing her forehead gently and sweeping back some loose locks of hair from her face. At least his daughter was safe, and Jim knew that Hawaii would have to have six inches of snowfall before Barbara ever found herself in danger. Nothing was going to hurt her while he was around.


End file.
